


Just Might Find 22

by helens78, Telesilla



Series: Just Might Find [26]
Category: Equilibrium (2002) RPF
Genre: BDSM, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Gunplay, Humiliation, Kink, Knifeplay, M/M, Masochism, Roleplay, Sadism, The Establishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-20
Updated: 2006-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-05 18:30:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telesilla/pseuds/Telesilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sean wants to extend the contract and the subsequent discussion leads to...you guessed it, sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Might Find 22

"God," Bill says, pushing his chair back and putting the paper down. "It's a damn good thing I work out as much as I do," he says, grinning at Sean. "Otherwise, I'd have put on a hell of a lot of weight in the last few months."

Sean grins back. It's a reasonably good opening, he thinks, even if it's going to be a bit abrupt. "I hope that means you won't mind having me in your kitchen for the next couple of years, master," he says softly. "I've been thinking about it. I'd like to stay."

"Would you?" Bill asks with a smile. "I think that's something Bill and Sean need to discuss, if you don't mind. Want to join me in the living room?"

"Sure," Sean says, coming to his feet. The motion's gotten much more fluid over the last few months, he realizes, and he likes that. _And my knees aren't complaining about it, either, which is good for a man who's pushing fifty._ "Let me just get some clothes on and I'll meet you there."

"Sure," Bill says. "I'm getting more coffee; you want anything while I'm at it?"

"No, that's all right, thanks." Sean takes the opportunity to stretch, lacing his fingers together and reaching for the ceiling; he groans out loud as he feels his back loosen up. _OK, so I'm still not as young as I used to be, even if the kneeling's going better these days._ "Be right back."

"Sure," Bill says, watching Sean stretch with appreciative eyes. _God, but he's good looking._

Once Sean's no longer distracting him, Bill fills his cup with more coffee and heads to the living room, where he sprawls on the big comfortable couch. Even though he hasn't had this place all that long, it felt like coming home when he and Sean returned from Portugal yesterday. It's a good feeling, and knowing that he'll have Sean here for another two years is an even better feeling.

Sean doesn't bother with anything fancy; he shrugs into a soft t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms and he's back to the living room, taking a seat on the couch next to Bill. "I gave it a lot of thought while we were away," he says, "and I do want to stay. I'm really enjoying this. I don't want to go anywhere anytime soon."

"I'm really glad to hear it," Bill says. "I'm enjoying this, too, and I like the way we fit together." He takes a drink of his coffee. "We should discuss stuff like working and time out of roles. During a longer contract, that sort of thing is important."

"That and how we handle it if we get media attention we don't want." Sean winces at that last; there are times he wishes he hadn't been so damned set on coming out of the closet. _It wasn't even wanting to come out; I just didn't want to hide._ "Working -- I think the things to worry about are visible marks and when one or the other of us is on location. The first is fairly easy to manage with scheduling; the second -- I've done it before, the rules didn't bend, I was fine about that."

"I have no problem with you being out," Bill says. "I've never come out because activism's not my thing, but it's not like I expend a huge amount of effort to be in the closet either." He shrugs. "With my career, it's not the same thing as it is with you."

After a sip of coffee, Bill continues. "As for when one of us is off working, no, the rules don't change any more than they have to. I try to come up with things a boy can do to remind himself that he's owned even when we're apart."

"I don't want the rules changing," Sean says. He shakes his head. "That was one of the things I had to think about -- it's a damned short leash you've got me on, and I like that -- I find it comforting -- but I had to ask myself whether I'd want it for two full years. And I do."

"Good," Bill says, resisting the urge to reach out and play with the leash attached to Sean's collar. "I like having you on it. We should figure out how much time you want off it, though," he says. "I enjoyed being out of role and I don't mind doing it on a set schedule or on a 'when we feel like it' basis."

"I'd like time out of role, definitely," Sean says, nodding. "It's not so much a matter of feeling like I'd get worn out from subbing as that I _liked_ being out of role with you. It'd be nice to do it on occasion. But I like this, too," he says, grinning as he tugs at his leash. "I don't need anything like half-and-half. I'm all right with doing it whenever we feel like it, or maybe one weekend a month, something along those lines."

"One weekend a month sounds good," Bill says, nodding. "And if we go on vacation, we can split the time up however we like. It was good being with you like that in Portugal." He looks around and then smiles at Sean.

"What about the house? Is there anything you'd like to change? It's your home as well as mine, and I want you to feel comfortable here."

"I've been very comfortable here," Sean says. "I'm not terribly picky about the way a house is set up as long as I can organize the kitchen and clean up when it gets messy. I've got a place to go if I need space, but how often have I needed that so far?" He shrugs. "And I like the idea of taking more vacations with you, when we've got the time and the mood strikes. Portugal was fantastic."

"It was," Bill says with a smile. "As for space ... is your room OK? Do you want the extra upstairs room? It's bigger." While he likes the idea of Sean's only room away from him being the smallest room in the house, that's more the sort of thing that works with an Establishment boy and not someone like Sean. And it's certainly worth compromising over.

Sean shrugs. "I like it fine, and the alternative is moving furniture." He laughs at that. "I don't know if this is my inner lazy side talking or if there's just a part of me that doesn't want to do any more bloody moving. I've had enough of that this last year; I like that I already feel settled here with you."

Now Bill can't help reaching out; he strokes Sean's face gently. "I'm glad you feel that way; it's important to me."

Sean turns into the touch, rubbing his cheek against Bill's fingers. "I've got confidence with you I haven't had in a while. It feels good."

"God," Bill breathes, "if I can do that for you...." He leans forward then and nuzzles Sean lightly, not quite wanting to demand a kiss.

Sean wants that kiss every bit as much as Bill does, though, and he turns his head, pressing his lips to Bill's. "You do that for me," he whispers, before kissing Bill again.

"Mmmm," Bill hums against Sean's lips before kissing him thoroughly, his fingers tightening on Sean's jaw. _Mine,_ he thinks. _My boy._

Sean squirms against Bill, reaching out and curling his fingers around Bill's shoulder. _Fuck, he feels so good._ He comes up for breath grinning. "Were we talking about something...?"

"Maybe we're done talking," Bill says, leaning in for a harder kiss. Granted, they covered everything quickly, but no red flags got raised and Bill's happy enough with the way things are. Plus, he trusts Sean to actually speak out if he has something to say.

Sean kisses back until he can feel himself wanting to melt into the couch. "I'm all right with no more talking," he murmurs. "Do you want your boy back?"

"Yeah," Bill growls, unwinding the leash from Sean's shoulders. "Does my boy give a damn about the clothes he's wearing?"

"No, master." Sean looks at the leash in Bill's hands and slides his tongue over his lips. It still gets him hard every time Bill takes hold of his leash. _Slut._

"Didn't think so," Bill says with a grin as he stands up and tugs on the leash. "Come on, then, let's get downstairs, because I really want to beat the hell out of you."

"God, yes, master, _please_," Sean says. Hard's not a strong enough word for it. Bill's hand on his leash and the promise of a beating -- _Christ, I'm so fucking lucky._

Bill's rough with Sean, manhandling him down the stairs and then shoving him hard against a wall once they reach the basement. "Looking to get hurt, aren't you boy?" he snarls, leaning right up against Sean. "Fucking starved for it."

"Yeah," Sean breathes, flattening himself against the wall and spreading his legs as much as he can. "Please, master, your boy's here for you. Just wants to give you everything, master, anything, _please_."

"Fucking slut," Bill says, moving forward until he's pressing Sean into the wall hard. "All I have to do is push you around and you spread your legs."

"Please, master," Sean groans, feeling his cheeks heat. Dirty talk was never a particularly strong kink for him before Bill, but now... now Bill could say two words and get Sean on the floor begging for it. "Please, _your_ slut, master -- God, please, master, please use your slut, let your slut hurt for you, slut's begging for it, master."

"So fucking easy," Bill says, backing off and slapping Sean across the face. "Just the threat of it and you want it." He looks at Sean and slaps him again, liking the way that Sean's cheek goes red. "Stay there, boy," he says, moving to the cabinet of supplies.

Sean's breathing hard, wanting it so much his cheeks are burning and his cock's already aching. The slaps always take him by surprise, and always leave him wanting more, and it occurs to him they'll need to be careful about that when he's working. _Because I'm staying. He's my master and I get to stay._

"You're a real whore, aren't you?" Bill says when he comes back. He flicks a knife open in front of Sean's face. "You want to be slapped around and then fucked, don't you?"

_Christ._ Sean swallows hard and nods, eyes on the knife, on Bill's grip on it. "Please, master," he whispers. "Let me be a good whore for you. Let me beg for it -- your hands, your knife, your cock, anything you want to give me."

"You don't even fucking care," Bill says, grabbing the front of Sean's tee shirt and yanking him forward by it. "You'd fucking do anything." Without giving Sean time to answer, he slices the shirt off Sean with a few easy passes of the knife.

"Just for you," Sean says, trying not to moan too much. "Need to be good for you. Need to be a good whore for master."

"Yeah?" Bill says, resting the knife against Sean's neck. "Why don't you turn around, then, whore? Press your hands up against the wall and spread your legs for me."

There's nothing Sean would rather do right now. He swallows again and turns around, hands up, legs spread apart. It feels so fucking good to be playing with knives again -- playing with them and not feeling anything but hard, solid arousal -- that he'd probably be on his knees thanking Bill for it if he didn't have orders to do something else.

Bill slices Sean's pajama bottoms just enough that they fall around Sean's knees. "God, you're just aching for a nice stiff dick, aren't you?" he asks, pulling his belt out of his belt loops. "But I want to fuck an ass that's got some nice marks on it." He doubles the belt over, snapping it loudly so Sean knows what to expect.

"Oh _fuck_ yeah," Sean whispers, tilting his ass back. "God, yes, please, master, please mark your whore. Please let me hurt for you..."

Without bothering to answer, Bill slams the belt down on Sean's ass hard. Setting up a steady, punishing rhythm, he beats Sean's ass and thighs, grinning as Sean's skin quickly goes red.

Sean doesn't hold anything back. A good whore makes noise and lets his master know he likes what he's getting, that he appreciates getting hurt like this. "Master, yes, _please_, feels so -- _Christ_ \-- feels so good, master, thank you!"

Although Bill likes gagging his boys on occasion, he's guessing that he won't be doing that to Sean all that often. _Boy sounds too good when he's begging and saying thank you._

"Greedy bitch," Bill says, really laying into Sean with the belt. "If I stopped, you'd get down on your knees and lick my boots for more, wouldn't you, whore?"

"Christ, yes, _fuck_, master," Sean pants, "I'd fucking lick your knife and beg you to keep hurting me -- Christ, master, please don't stop."

"Turn around, then," Bill says. "Let's see your mouth all over my knife."

Sean turns around and drops to his knees, glancing up at Bill just once before leaning in and licking up the flat of his blade. It's a delicate motion, one that's a little more careful than he might have been in years past, but God, just the fact that he _can_ offer this to Bill -- _don't ever let me take you for granted, master, please._

"Fuck," Bill whispers, his tough guy role abandoned for now. Watching Sean do this is incredible and he wonders what Sean would do if Bill chose to push the knife just a little. _Would he suck it for me?_ Hard on that thought comes another, and Bill suddenly smiles.

"So you like dangerous toys, do you, boy?"

Sean gives Bill's knife another lick, this one far less delicate -- his confidence is high enough now that he's willing to give the blade a long, lingering swipe with his tongue before looking up again.

"Your slut likes a hell of a lot of things that probably ought to scare him, master."

"Stay there," Bill says, getting his key ring out. He puts the knife aside on a shelf and opens a locked cabinet. Opening a case, he takes out one of his guns, a .38 Special he's had for quite a while. After checking to make sure it's not loaded, he moves back over to Sean, standing a few feet away and sighting down the barrel at Sean.

"So how many deadly weapons can you deal with, boy?"

The last gun Sean had in his mouth was a Walther that had been modified to be safe for play. This is different; it's a longer-barrelled revolver, the kind of thing Sean can already imagine tasting. Steel and salt. He laces his fingers behind his back and spreads his knees wide. "I can deal with that, master, if you'll let me," he murmurs.

"Just deal with it?" Bill says with a laugh. "Don't be so fucking coy, slut. You know you're drooling at the chance to suck this down as if it was cock."

"Yes, master." Sean's more solid about it this time. "Master, please -- let your slut crawl over and suck your gun down his throat. Let me do that for you. Please." He licks his lips again; it's not about what he wants, not supposed to be about that, but God, he can tell Bill wants to see it, and he wants to be able to offer that. _And steel in your mouth would make you so hard you'd have to fight not to come from it, and you know it, slut, so he's right. Don't be coy._ "Please, master?"

"That's a good boy," Bill says. "Crawl over and suck on Master's gun." He remembers Sean's prison fantasy and wonders how to make it happen, because with the gun in hand, he wants a state trooper's uniform to go along with it.

Sean goes to all fours and crawls forward, tight red skin of his ass stretching as he goes and getting him that much harder for the pain. He glances up once he gets to Bill and takes a deep breath, then slides his tongue down the underside of the barrel from the trigger guard to the tip, licking around the rim carefully before he opens his mouth wide and starts taking the barrel in.

"That's it, bitch," Bill snarls, already working out the persona of the prison guard in the back of his head. He's got the urge, for the first time in a long while, to use the term "daddy," and he can't remember if that was part of Sean's fantasy or if this whole scene is taking him back into the late '70s and the leather bars of New York.

"Suck on Master's piece," he says, settling for the more common term and pushing the gun into Sean's mouth.

_Bitch_ is something Sean's never heard a lot of, and coming off Bill's lips it just makes him want to roll over and beg until his voice gives out. He sucks hard, getting as much cold steel down his throat as he can, and then starts moving his head back and forth, going full-out and making it a blowjob. He gives the barrel all the tricks and twists he'd give a cock, lets it get nice and slippery as he works his lips around it.

"Suck it down, bitch, and if you're real good maybe I'll give you a pack of smokes," Bill says, his voice going a little rougher, a little more Jersey. He's seeing this play itself out at the club, in a prison cell where he could lock Sean up for a weekend. Sean and maybe another boy, just to fuck with the dynamic a little and see if Sean'd end up on top.

_Ohhh._ The role snaps into place with that, and Sean gets more enthusiastic, giving head like he knows he's bargaining for something good. A little protection from the other inmates, a fuck with some lube for a change. Cigarettes would be good, but he's just trying to keep hold of his creature comforts now, and he's going to be good for the guard who's got an interest in him. _Make him like it. Give it to him good enough he won't think about leaving you for the rest of the boys to screw._

It's not easy to sigh and look like he's a little bored with it all, but Bill gives it a shot. "I don't think you like this, bitch. I don't think you want to be here."

Sean moans and looks up at Bill, pulling back and running his tongue all the way around the rim of the barrel, teasing at it like it's the head of Bill's cock. "Please, sir, promise I'll be good for you," Sean says. "Been a good bitch so far, haven't I? Please..." And he swallows the gun down again.

"Don't get any ideas about how good you are," Bill snarls, hoping this isn't a trigger for Sean. "I could pull any boy out of my block and they'd do just as good a job." He works Sean's mouth with the gun barrel, watching as it moves slickly between Sean's lips.

All it does is make Sean want to be better. He needs to prove himself; he wants to know he can make Bill want him. Even in role, that's important, so he goes faster, getting pornographic with the gun, knowing that even if he's not the youngest or prettiest boy Bill could have, they'd have a hell of a time beating his enthusiasm, his commitment to Bill and what they're doing.

"That's it," Bill says, grinning. "You love doing this don't you, you fucking scum? You're worse than a fucking hooker; at least they expect to get paid. You'd do this for nothing, wouldn't you, bitch?" He's never called Sean names before, but Sean seems to be dealing with the humiliation aspects so Bill feels fairly safe with it.

Sean comes up off the gun, looking up at Bill. He licks his lips, then runs the tip of his tongue just around the edge of the barrel. "Want to do it for _you_," he murmurs, slowly sucking the gun down again.

"That's what you say now, whore," Bill says, wishing he'd worn decent boots this morning instead of his ancient cowboy boots as he presses his foot against Sean's erection. "It all comes down to you being a natural at this. Do you ever even try to fuck anyone, bitch? If I threw new meat in your cell, what would you do?"

Sean pulls back fast and glares up at Bill. "I don't roll over for the fuckers around here," he says. He has to grit his teeth together to keep from groaning with Bill's boot pressing down hard on his cock; he was aching enough to begin with.

"You didn't fucking answer my question, boy," Bill says, slapping Sean's face lightly with the barrel of the gun.

"You throw me someone new and he'll be taking it from me," Sean says, almost snarling now. "Do you want to see that? Is that it? You want to see your bitch fucking the newest bitch in the block?"

Reaching down, Bill grabs Sean's hair and yanks his head back hard. "Are you getting smart with me, bitch?" he snarls, getting right in Sean's face. "If I want to see you fuck some new boy, you'll fuck him. If I want to whore your bitch ass out to the whole block, I'll fucking whore you out. Are we clear on that?

The spark of defiance Sean's been building up goes out at that, and he nods -- or tries to, with his movement restricted as much as it is. "Clear," he says, "_yours_, sir, Christ, you know I'd do anything you wanted." More than anything, Sean's just desperate to serve, in or out of his role here. "Please."

"Then get on your hands and knees, bitch," Bill says, shoving Sean away. "And spread those pretty cheeks for me."

Sean lets himself fall with the push, landing on hands and knees and pressing himself up so he's presenting his ass to Bill. He drops down even further, balancing his weight on one shoulder, and gets his hands behind him, pulling his cheeks apart, breathing hard from wanting this so much. "Please, sir," he says, "oh, God, please, please, your bitch wants to be used so fucking badly..."

For a moment Bill almost doesn't reach for the condom in his pocket. _No, not this time. It's not right for the scene,_ he thinks, trying to convince himself. Once he's unzipped his jeans and the condom's on, he spits in his hand and slicks the latex up. "That's all you're gonna get, bitch," he says, before shoving in hard. "And you're gonna fucking love it."

Sean screams, nearly collapsing onto the floor. His body clenches hard around Bill's cock, and he pants out a few breaths, trying to force himself to open up and take it. "Jesus -- _hurts_," he groans, putting both arms on the ground again so he can brace himself and push back. "Hurts so fucking much, Christ, thank you, sir -- thank you for hurting me."

"Stupid bitch," Bill mutters. "Liking pain the way you do, it's a wonder you did anything on the outside but bend over pool tables spreading your ass. That's what you're really in for, isn't it, bitch? Selling it in the bars and on the street?"

Sean tries to answer, but the pain's sharp enough that instead he ends up choking out a rough breath -- almost a sob, but there are no tears backing it up. "Didn't sell it," he says, shoving back onto Bill's cock. "Gave it away for free."

"Shoulda known," Bill says, his own voice getting rough. He reaches forward and cuffs the back of Sean's head, a light smack that is oddly affectionate given the situation. "Got me a good ... fucking bitch here ... one who practiced."

Another groan; Sean shoves back even harder, gasping at the pain from it. "Fucking love -- giving it up for you -- sir," he pants. "All yours. Just you."

""Mine," Bill gasps, getting close now. "C'mon ... gimme some noise here, bitch."

It's an easy enough order, especially when Sean's close himself and every rough stroke in is making him want to scream. It takes a while to build up the sounds, though, to get them past the panting and the urge to swallow them down so the rest of his cell block doesn't hear. But between Bill's thrusts in and Sean's hard shoves back, it's so good and hurts so much that Sean can't help crying out, until the sounds are bouncing off the walls and he's screaming because if he doesn't scream -- if he doesn't get the need out through his voice -- he's sure he's going to come from this.

Bill doubts that he'll be tired of hearing Sean scream even after their two years are up. It's certainly getting to him now, and more importantly getting to the corrupt prison guard that he's become for this scene. "Yeah ... let everyone on the fucking block ... know you're getting it good ... let 'em know you're my bitch."

Sean can't help himself now; he's screaming, almost sounding proud of himself now -- the prisoner he's playing knows his guard likes him best, and it's because he takes everything like a good whore and still keeps begging for more, no matter how much it hurts. Maybe because of how much it hurts. He braces himself better and screams louder, giving Bill everything he's got.

"Fuck!" It's more a yell than a scream, but still, Bill's almost as loud as Sean as he finally lets go, shoves into Sean, one more time and then comes, almost unable to breathe for a moment after. Finally he sits back on his heels, cuffing Sean again, this time on the ass.

"Good boy," he says. "Such a good little bitch for Daddy." He winces the moment he says it, hoping Sean's down too far and is too desperate to come to pay much attention. "Suppose you think you deserve to come."

Sean shakes his head. It's not that he doesn't think he deserves it; he just isn't in a place where he can ask for it unless he's ordered to. He's still breathing hard, holding still as if he's expecting to be whored out, expecting the line to start up now.

A little relieved that Sean either didn't notice the slip or didn't care, Bill gets to his feet, zipping up his pants once he's standing. Strolling around in front of Sean, he nudges the toe of his boot under Sean's chin. "Kneel up, boy."

Sean rubs his cheek against Bill's boot before getting on his knees. He laces his hands behind his neck; it seems like the position he'd take if he were a prisoner here, the kind of thing that marks him both as surrendering and on display.

"Nice," Bill says, leaning down to run his hand over Sean's chest. "You've been working out." He pauses, tugging hard on one of Sean's rings before standing up again. "Go on then, bitch. Shoot your load for me. And God help you if you get any of it on my fucking boots."

It's the leftover pain from that tug that sends Sean over, the heat and weight of it going straight to his cock, and he gasps, shouting out something that isn't quite a plea as he comes. His eyes are shut tight, and he can only hope he hasn't made a mess of Bill's boots; when he first gets his eyes open again, though, his vision's too fuzzy to make anything out, and he's breathing so hard it's almost bringing tears up.

Bill's boots are, in fact, no dirtier than they were before Sean came, Bill having given his boy a break and taken a step back. "You know what to do about that mess, bitch," he snarls, looking down at the plain tile floor.

And Sean doesn't hesitate; he drops to the floor and starts licking up his come, moaning softly as he does. He can feel the strange mixture of pride and humiliation from the prisoner role; he's got an ego about being Bill's favorite, but that doesn't make the twist of embarrassment from licking his own semen off tile any easier to bear. It just sharpens that humiliation into something that turns him on, something he'd jerk off to if he were allowed to touch himself without Bill's permission.

Bill watches silently until Sean's done. Sean's devotion, his willingness to do anything he's told to do and like it, is exactly what Bill wants in a boy. _I did the right thing, asking him to stay on. Thank God he agreed._

Sean's shivering by the time he's finished, even though it's not cold enough to warrant that. He doesn't come up off all fours, though; he just tilts his head up, trying to look at Bill, and then stays down, trembling.

"Good boy," Bill says, dropping the guard persona immediately. He crouches down next to Sean. "You amaze the hell out of me, boy. C'mon, let's get you lying down."

"God," Sean says, coming up and clinging to Bill as soon as he's close enough, "God, I just want to be good for you, I just want to be so fucking good for you..."

"You are, boy," Bill says, wrapping his arms around Sean and holding him close. "You're damn good for me," he adds, realizing that it's true in more ways than one. "I'm fucking proud of you, Sean."

It's not the first time Sean's broken down in tears with Bill. It probably won't be the last, either. And if he were out of headspace, he might feel foolish about losing it or worried about how Bill's going to feel about having a boy who _needs_ this much. It's a feeling he'd be sitting on and ignoring instead of just crying it out into Bill's chest. But the emotions are right there at the surface right now, and he can't cling hard enough, can't pull himself close enough as he breaks down and cries on his master.

Sitting down on the floor, Bill settles them both a little more comfortably and then runs his hand over Sean's back, stroking gently. "It's all right," he murmurs. "You're a good boy, Sean. My good boy."

"I want this so much," Sean gets out, breath coming out hard but starting to steady now. "I want to stay. I want two years with you. I want this all so goddamned much."

"I do, too," Bill says, kissing Sean's temple lightly. "I want you here with me, want you to be my boy. You, Sean."

That gets Sean crying again, and he nods against Bill's chest. "Thank you," he whispers. "Christ, thank you." He's got all sorts of thoughts running through his head now, the strongest of which is _I need you_, but he's up far enough now to hold that back. He doesn't know how Bill would take it, and he doesn't want to say something that'll change the way Bill looks at him, the way Bill thinks of him. Not when everything seems so perfect.

"Of course," Bill says. "And you know," he adds, stroking the back of Sean's neck just below the collar. "I'm getting one hell of a boy out of this. So it's pretty damn mutual."

The way it feels hearing that might be one of the best feelings Sean's had in months. He closes his eyes and nods again, just savoring that feeling. _He wants me. He wants me._

Quite content to remain on the floor as long as Sean needs to be there, Bill keeps stroking Sean's neck. "Mine," he says. "Mine."


End file.
